[A half hour after
this and
this.]
[He'd opted for no tie. Yes, he'd mentioned wearing his most official of robes, but, as this was branded as a clandestine meeting of the Heads, he thought perhaps he best look inconspicuous. The black drape of nice robes over his shoulders, fitted well over a t-shirt and slacks, James Potter descended the well-worn staircases, even as they slotted in and out of their jigsaw arrangements, to the Kitchens. He idly wished he had the Map with him, just so he might entertain himself if Evans was late (she wouldn't be), but he'd memorized Hogwarts and its channels, passageways, and other secrets long before. He didn't need any guidance to the large, piping room near the Hufflepuff Common Room.
Inside, after he'd duly tickled the pear, he cast a glance around the space—but, seeing only the industrious bobbing of heads that came up to his knee, he understood that some stroke of chance had him more punctual than the notoriously on-time Lily Evans. He grinned, quite pleased with himself, and set about talking to one of the tiny chefs, asking after pastries and a goblet of pumpkin juice.
If nothing else, it would be good for spitting out if Harry slipped with the Cloak. Such a display would surely cement his innocence in the shining green eyes of Evans.]
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